The Black Rocks of Morwenstow

by John Wilcox

  ‘Ah,’ she nodded her head. ‘He has a difficult job tryin’ to pin down all those that plan and carry out the landin’s. I doubt if he will ever do it. Folk around here are much too close to let on. I sometimes feel sorry for him.’

  Josh allowed himself to tease. ‘But not enough to marry him, eh Rowena?’

  She turned away quickly. ‘Don’t you play with me, Joshua Weyland,’ she called out behind her, her voice breaking as she strode away.

  Josh immediately felt ashamed of himself. But it was too late for remorse. He should not, he could not, play with Rowena’s feelings. Instead, he strode after her into the kitchen.

  He caught her arm. ‘I am sorry, Rowena, it was a silly and unfair thing to say. I shan’t tease you about him any more. But, I have had a thought and perhaps you could help me.’ He explained his desire to find Pengelly and ‘the forgotten man’.

  ‘Ah, you will find Tom most days in the inn at about noon, having his lunch,’ she said. ‘But you mustn’t keep them long. They only has the half-hour for their break now.’

  ‘Thank you, I won’t.’

  He looked at the dial of the great-grandfather clock that stood against the wall. He had less than an hour before meeting them. But the inn was an ideal place for the meeting, as long as they could talk out of range of Jacob Millbury’s wagging ears.

  To fill in the hour and to exercise his increasingly stiff injured leg, he hobbled up to the level patch of ground on which he had been attacked. Instinctively, he looked up to the left to the clifftop. This time, however, there was no lone horseman, no Jack Cunningham patrolling his two parishes. He stayed for a while looking out to sea, breathing in deeply the fresh onshore breeze. He could see the outline of Lundy Island on the horizon and, to his right, the sharp, high promontory that was Hartland Point. From its head, the cliff plunged down almost vertically. The sea was a sharply blue colour and was studded with white sails. This coast, he mused, might be cruel and dangerous but it was strikingly beautiful. As a sailor, could he live here? He smiled and thought the answer might well be yes. Then he shook his head. What a ridiculous question! There was no possibility of that happening. More likely he would have to look to Dover as a base. He sighed.

  He stayed a little while taking in the fresh clean air from the Atlantic and preparing himself for what he hoped would be a productive talk with the two sailors. At least, it would be men of the sea talking, men who followed more or less the same trade. There should be some sort of empathy between them.

  He walked towards where the vertical piece of flat rock had given him some kind of protection from the attack. He hoped that perhaps there might be some previously undetected piece of detritus that might offer a clue as to who launched the attack on him. But there was nothing.

  Taking his time, he walked towards the inn thinking. What did he hope to find from the meeting? Well, firstly, he would like an admission that it was they who had rescued him on the night of the shipwreck, so giving him the chance to thank them, for they must surely have risked their lives in scrambling out on that sea-swept rock at the height of the storm. Then, he would like some confirmation from them of seeing the burning beacon. They surely must have seen it and, if they had, could they throw some light on its purpose? Was it, indeed, a signal to the smugglers or was its role something far more sinister? And what were they doing on that rain-swept cliff? Finally, might they have a view on who it was who attacked him?

  It was enough. He only hoped that they would be taking their break in the inn. They were.

  Tom Pengelly, of course, he recognised immediately. Broadshouldered, a face browned by sun and wind and wearing a seaman’s striped jersey. There was one important addition, however, to Pengelly’s appearance. He had a scar across his cheekbone. Ah! His companion, however, he had never seen before. He was slightly shorter than Pengelly by the look of him – they were both seated, of course – and slimmer in build. He seemed a little older, for grey had brushed the tangled curls on his brow. He looked up sharply as Josh entered and, immediately, a look of something – not fear, but perhaps apprehension – crossed his face.

  Josh limped across and nodded to Pengelly. ‘Hello, Tom,’ he said. ‘Let me fill up those glasses.’ And he indicated the near empty tumblers that stood before their packages of bread and cheese.

  ‘No need for that, Mr Mate,’ said Pengelly. Josh could not help noting that that was the form of address used, jocularly, by Cunningham.

  ‘No, let me buy you both a beer, because, according to Mr Millbury here,’ he nodded to the publican standing behind the bar, ‘and the Reverend Hawker, it was you and a fellow sailor who pulled me off that rock and carried me up the cliff. If that is so, the least I can do is to buy you a beer.’

  He turned to Millbury. ‘A pint for them both and one for me, please.’

  He indicated the empty bench before them. ‘May I?’

  ‘Of course.’ Pengelly indicated his companion. ‘This is Jem Drake. He works with me on the dinghies at the harbour.’

  Joshua reached out a hand. ‘Have we met before, Jem?’ he asked.

  ‘I don’t think so, sur.’ The man spoke with a broad Cornish accent.

  ‘Strange, I thought we had.’ Josh nodded to Millbury, who put three brimming glasses on the table, and paid him. ‘It’s true that I was unconscious the first time, during the storm when The Lucy was lost. But I can’t help wondering how you got that terrible bruise on your cheekbone and, you, Tom, picked up those nasty cuts on your own cheek and forearm. But let us not talk about those things just now. Did you, in fact, rescue me that night?’

  The two men exchanged glances and Pengelly dropped his right forearm underneath the table to avoid the cut scars being seen further. ‘Oh aye,’ he said, ‘we did. But it was only our duty. We were only sorry that we could not help the other poor fellows. I reckon you were right lucky to be cast up on that rock. You were all we could find.’

  The man was happy enough to engage Josh in direct eye contact, but Drake seemed strangely averse to doing so. He held his head down and concentrated on munching his bread and cheese.

  ‘The reason I asked – apart from wanting to thank you,’ continued Josh, ‘was that Rowena, I mean Emma, told me that she thought that it was two Preventers who had carried me up to the cart.’

  ‘Ah no,’ said Pengelly, ‘she was wrong about that. It was us, all right.’

  ‘Well, let me repeat that I am grateful to you. I suppose you must have saved my life that night. But tell me,’ he leant across the table, ‘did you see a brazier burning on a ledge just a bit below halfway up the cliff face?’

  Drake appeared to be about to speak, but Pengelly forestalled him. ‘No, I can’t say that I did. I wouldn’t know what it would be doin’ there, anyway, on a night like that.’

  ‘Ah, that’s my thought too, Tom.’ Josh took a deep draught of his beer. ‘But, as The Lucy tried to weather the Point, I saw it from her deck. And then, more clearly as our idiot of a captain thought that it was a ship’s riding light, indicating a safe anchorage, and turned the helm over so that we almost surfed onto the rocks.’

  Pengelly spoke slowly, looking directly at Joshua, ‘Well, I wouldn’t know about that.’

  Josh turned to Jem Drake. ‘What about you, Jem? Did you see it?’

  Drake shot a quick glance at Pengelly. ‘Ah, no sur. I sor nothin’ like that.’

  ‘Hmm.’ Josh realised he was playing a dangerous game, but the cut marks on Pengelly’s arm and the bruise on Drake’s cheekbone had, at first astonished him, and then filled him with anger. He pressed his point.

  ‘But I went to that ledge shortly after my rescue and found a hole in the ground where, obviously, a firm stake had been thrust into it, and surrounding it, a ring of ash, that might well have been caused by the burning remains falling from a brazier.’

  ‘Aye,’ Pengelly held his gaze. ‘That might well be so, but I wouldn’t know about it, would you, Jem?’

  ‘No, sur. I wouldn’t kno
w either.’

  Josh nodded. ‘Well, of course, I take your word on that. But, forgive me if I seem to be insistent, but I can’t help wondering what you were doing out at Morwenstow on the clifftop on a night like that?’

  Pengelly stepped in quickly. ‘Well, I live there, o’ course, and Jem here, who lives at Hartland, had come over to have a game of cribbage and a drop of ale or so. But the storm pressed in and stopped him from goin’ home.’

  ‘But the clifftop. Why be there?’

  ‘We heard that a vessel, a brigantine, had been seen being blown by the gale towards the rocks at Morwenstow and, as sailors, we turned out to see if we could be of any help if the ship foundered. It’s what anyone would have done.’

  ‘I see. Well, you certainly helped me. Thank you.’

  Pengelly stood. ‘Well you must excuse us now, for we have to get back to the harbour. We just has the half-hour break, you see.’

  ‘Of course.’ Josh rose to his feet. ‘Just one more thing. Two men attacked me on that ridge just above the street here a few days ago. I don’t think they wanted to kill me and they didn’t seem to be after money but they had cudgels and obviously intended to hurt me. Captain Cunningham has investigated and found that it was none of his men. Would either of you know who it might be? You must know everyone in these two small communities.’

  Not a muscle in Pengelly’s face moved. ‘I have no idea. I am sorry. We must go now. Thank you for the beer.’

  Josh stood and watched them go, then he sat down again and finished his beer. Millbury came bustling over. ‘I ’eard that bit about you bein’ attacked,’ he said. ‘Who on earth would do that, I wonder?’

  ‘I wonder, too.’ But Josh did not. He knew now – and felt strangely disappointed. Why should two sailors do that to a fellow seaman; particularly to someone they had risked their lives to save from the sea? He put down his empty glass, nodded to Millbury and left.

  Rowena, of course, was waiting for him.

  ‘Did you find anything out?’ she asked, her face strained.

  ‘Oh yes. I know now who attacked me. Tom Pengelly had recent scars on his forearm and cheek where my knife had cut him and his companion, Jem Drake, had the bruise on his cheekbone where I hit him. They didn’t admit it, of course, but they were the men all right. Drake, in particular, looked most uncomfortable throughout our talk.’

  Rowena put a hand to her mouth. ‘Oh no, Josh. I know them both, o’course. They’re pretty rough, I suppose, but they would never attack anybody like that, I’m sure.’

  ‘Well, the evidence is there for all to see. I left those marks myself, but …’ His voice trailed away for a moment. ‘Looking back on it now, though, I realise that they called off the attack pretty quickly as soon as I showed fight. But if they were really serious, they could have knocked me down and given me a fair old beating, if they wanted – or even killed me. It was all so strange.’

  Rowena stamped her foot. ‘Well, I’m goin’ to give that Tom Pengelly a good talkin’ to. I will find out why they did it. You leave that to me.’

  ‘No, thank you, Rowena. I would rather let things lie at this stage. They both know I know they did it. Let us see what happens next. I don’t want to prompt another attack, but it will be interesting to see which way the cat jumps now. By the way, they both deny seeing a brazier burning on the cliff side.’

  ‘But did they say that they were there on the night of the shipwreck?’

  ‘Oh yes. Pengelly explained it by saying that they had come to help if anyone was washed ashore – as, indeed, they did with me. I was able to thank them for that.’ He frowned. ‘It’s all so strange. One minute they save my life and the next they are beating me with cudgels. Why do you think that is, Rowena?’

  ‘Oh I don’t know, Josh. But look.’ She seized his hand beseechingly. ‘I promise I was tellin’ you the truth when I said I didn’t see them there that night. I was too miserable an’ wet an’ that.’

  Josh squeezed her hand. ‘Of course you were. I well understand that. I need to think about all this. There must be some explanation – and I think I might know what it is.’

  ‘What would that be, then?’

  ‘I am not sure. I need to think it through.’ He sighed. ‘I can’t help wishing that your father was here. I am sure that he could help to unravel some of this mystery. No message from him, I suppose? Or, perhaps, another letter for me … ?’

  ‘No. Nothing from Father and nothing from your Mary. Strange, that her mother would write instead of her, eh?’

  Josh grinned inwardly. Of course, she had found Mrs Jackson’s letter and read it. He decided to let the matter go. ‘Well, she did explain that Mary was away … if you remember.’

  Rowena had the grace to blush. ‘I must prepare lunch,’ she said and hurried into the kitchen.

  Joshua limped into the sitting room and sat down and studied again the bric-a-brac that lined the walls. In addition to the fine pottery, there was the old cavalry pistol and, above the fireplace, two cutlasses crossed. On a crowded table in a dark corner stood an old telescope and a pair of navigator’s dividers. All very nautical.

  He sighed. The evidence seemed to be growing. The doctor was, at the very least, a good customer of the smugglers on this coast and, it seemed clear, Pengelly and Drake were active smugglers, present on the night of the shipwreck to help in a landing that was cancelled by the burning signal.

  What next? Well, obviously, they must wait for the doctor’s return. Josh knew he would be happier to leave for Dover if there was someone in the house to protect Rowena, should the strange pendulum of hate in this village swing towards her. He would also feel somehow more settled if, before setting out, he could receive a letter from Mary – and he would be so relieved if the doctor would agree to remove the surely now redundant damned splints on his injured leg. He sighed. Best to sit tight and see if that cat would jump within the next few days.

  It did so in a way that was both tragic and shocking.

  Two days after his meeting with the two sailors, Josh was awakened just before first light by a fierce hammering on the door of the house. Struggling into jacket and trousers he met Rowena hurrying down the stairway in her dressing gown.

  He was close behind her when she opened the door to see Mrs Brown, her bonnet askew, standing there with a matronly woman new to him.

  ‘Whatever is the matter?’ asked Rowena. ‘Mrs Brown, Mrs Drake, what is it?’

  The second woman, Mrs Drake, was obviously too upset to speak but Mrs Brown blurted out, ‘Jem, her son, didn’t turn up for work at the harbour yesterday morning and he ’asn’t been ’ome all night. We just wondered if he’d had an accident or somethin’ an’ he ’ad been brought ’ere … ?’

  ‘Oh come in, come in, out of the cold.’ Rowena gestured behind her and Josh moved aside so that the two women could enter. ‘No, my dears, we haven’t seen Jem. He is not here. But I am sure that there will be a simple explanation for what has happened. Now, come into the kitchen and I will make us all a pot of tea and we can decide what to do. Oh,’ Rowena indicated Josh, ‘Mrs Drake this is Mr Joshua Weyland, he is staying here for a while and, in fact, he met Jem only two days ago. Perhaps he might be able to shed some light on where he might be. Come on through now.’

  As they sat and Rowena bustled around at the old stove, Josh leant towards the sobbing woman. ‘Have you considered, Mrs Drake, that he might be with his mate, Tom Pengelly, perhaps staying overnight with him at Morwenstow? I gather he’s done that before when the weather has been inclement.’

  The old lady blew her nose. ‘Oh no, sur, ’e’s never done that. Never stayed out all night. ’E wouldn’t do that because ’e knew I would worry. ’E’s always been such a good son to me, y’see. He wouldn’t want me worryin’. Where can ’e be?’

  Josh frowned, recalling Pengelly’s explanation of why Drake was with him the night of the storm. Another lie to add to the litany! He took the grieving old lady’s hand. ‘Never mind, Mrs Drake, i
t’s getting light now, as soon as you’ve had your tea Rowena and I will go out in the donkey cart and make a search. There will be some innocent explanation for his absence. There always is.’

  He made his excuses, climbed upstairs to complete his dressing and then went out to the stable to harness up the donkey and cart. By the time he had brought them round to the front door, Rowena was waiting for him fully dressed. She had the doctor’s medical bag in her hand.

  Josh nodded to it. ‘Good idea,’ he said.

  First they rode down to the harbour. There was no body washed up onto the little beach by the stone workings. Then, they climbed the hill, past the Preventers’ barracks and trotted a while on the road to Morwenstow. Nothing.

  ‘I think we should look the other way, towards the Point,’ said Rowena.

  ‘Very well.’ Josh pulled the donkey’s head round. ‘Why, though? What is up there?’

  ‘Not much. Only the high clifftop and the heathland. I just think we should look, that’s all. People have been known to thrown themselves off there, you know.’

  ‘Very well. Giddy-up, giddy-up.’

  Long before they reached the highest part of the Point they found Jem Drake. He was hanging from a branch of a tree at the side of the path, his hands hanging uselessly at his side. Gruesomely, his throat had been cut so severely that he was almost decapitated. He was swinging gently in the morning breeze and he was, of course, quite dead.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Rowena led out an involuntary scream but quickly stifled it. The donkey, sensing or perhaps smelling the evil above it, stood shivering. ‘Can you cut him down, Josh, while I stop the donkey from bolting,’ said Rowena, leaning over and taking the reins.

  Josh stood up unsteadily and climbed onto the cart’s bench, withdrawing his knife. He took Jem’s weight off the noose so that the rope slackened and, reaching up, was just able to saw away at it with his knife. It parted suddenly and Josh would have tumbled over backwards as Jem’s full weight descended upon him had not Rowena’s steady hand at his back held him upright.